


Event Horizon

by eponymous_rose



Category: Corner Gas
Genre: 100-1000 Words, Canada, Canon - TV, F/M, Humor, POV Third Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-15
Updated: 2009-11-15
Packaged: 2017-10-02 21:21:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eponymous_rose/pseuds/eponymous_rose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She's at the register, leaning on the counter, working on her own translation of the Septuagint, when he walks in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Event Horizon

She's at the register, leaning on the counter, working on her own translation of the _Septuagint_, when he walks in. It takes her ten lines and one particularly tricky compound to realize he's just standing in front of the chips, staring blankly. "I'm not gonna lend you money just because you're standing there, Hank."

"Huh?" He looks up slowly, blinking. "Oh, hi, Wanda. Where's Brent?"

Straightening, she grins. "I'm pretty sure he's not gonna lend you money either."

Hank waves his hands. "No, no, I'm not looking for money."

He pauses, and Wanda counts in her head. _One, two, three-_

An enlightened expression crosses his face. "Although if you had a twenty, I could use it to pay Emma back." He leans in conspiratorially, but the whisper's louder than his speaking voice. "I think she's been following me."

"I am not!" Emma says, strolling through the doors, the very picture of nonchalance. "It just so happens that my car needed a little gas."

"You filled up fifteen minutes ago," Wanda points out.

Emma's smile becomes forced, and Wanda turns back to her Greek litany of eternal damnation; it's less frightening. "I said it only needed a _little_ gas." The saccharine expression intensifies. "But while I'm here, Hank, how about paying back the money you said you'd pay me back three days ago?"

Wanda can't quite stop herself from getting interested. "Why did you lend money to Mister Black Hole over there? It'll get sucked in and you'll never see it again."

Hank scowls at her, looking insulted in a confused sort of way. "Hey! I don't suck!"

Rolling her eyes, Emma crosses her arms. "It's a long story."

"Brent bet her she couldn't collect on a debt from me," Hank supplies.

"Not as long as all that, then," Wanda says, smirking.

Emma gives a long-suffering sigh. "Oscar's got it into his head that he's gotta go see some stupid football game in Regina. If I win the bet, Brent gets a nice road trip with his father. If I lose, I've gotta drive him."

Wanda flinches, and Hank looks a little green around the gills. "Ouch. That's just low." It's a simple problem in logic, though.

Proposition: Hank doesn't give Emma the money.

Inference: Oscar makes Emma's life hell.

Inference: Emma makes Hank's life hell.

Alternate Proposition: Hank gives Emma the money.

Inference: Oscar makes Brent's life hell.

Conclusion: Brent can just suck it up.

Thus decided, she digs in her pocket. "Okay, Hank. I'll lend you a twenty."

He stares at her, processing this unusual statement, then straightens, entering Stubborn Hank Mode in record time. "No thanks, Wanda. I'm not a charity case."

Wanda's famous for her brain; now it's working overtime. "It's, uh, your change from last week."

"Really?" Hank gapes at proffered twenty, then snatches it up, exiting Stubborn Hank Mode in favour of the more familiar Greedy Hank Mode. "Geez, how'd I miss that? And what're the odds it'd be exactly twenty dollars?"

"Pretty good, actually," says Wanda, straight-faced. "It's a question of-"

Emma grabs the twenty from Hank. "He paid me back! You're a witness, Wanda, if they call you to the stand," she says, and leaves in a flurry of good humour.

Hank stares after her, then grins. "Thanks, Wanda."

"No problemo. I'm like a superhero that way, with the helping."

He smiles at her, and she smiles at him, feeling the terrible, goofy, awkward grins getting somewhere under her skin. Barring any sort of relativistic time dilation effect related to Hank's black hole status, they stay like that for a ridiculously long time before Hank clears his throat. "Well, I'll see you around, Wanda."

He's halfway to the door before she recovers. "Hank, hang on!" Hank turns, and she can't decide whether to move around the counter or stay put, starts evaluating which would be the safest choice, starts evaluating her use of the word 'safest', and winds up banging her knee on the edge of a shelf. "Dammit!"

In an instant, he's grabbing her arm to keep her from falling, and her brain tells her, very strongly, that this isn't 'safest', that this is in no way 'safest'. "You okay, Wanda?"

"Who, me? Yeah, you've just gotta, um, watch those shelves." She manages to shrug off his arm, rubbing at her knee.

Dead serious, he nods. "Yeah, I've heard they can be dangerous. You better watch out, with all of these-" He waves a hand to encompass the store. "-_shelves_ around here."

"Real death-trap." She's feeling a bit more in control now, leaning against the counter, though he's still hovering close, almost absent-mindedly. "Look, Hank, you said you weren't here to ask for money. Why'd you come here in the first place?"

He blinks. "Dunno," he says. "Seemed like the right thing to do."

It's good enough for her, and she says so, and before he can figure out what to say next, she grabs him by the shoulders and kisses him so hard that black holes have got _nothing_ on them.


End file.
